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“Stick yours in!” commanded the other.

Mr Button did so, and made a hub-bubbling noise in the water; then he lifted a wet and streaming face, and flung the contents of the bailing tin overboard.

“Now you’ve lost your chance,” said this arch nursery-strategist, “all the water’s gone.”

“There’s more in the sea.”

“There’s no more to wash with, not till to-morrow—the fishes don’t allow it.”

“I want to wash,” grumbled Dick. “I want to stick my face in the tin, same’s you did; ’sides, Em hasn’t washed.”

“I don’t mind,” murmured Emmeline.

“Well, thin,” said Mr Button, as if making a sudden resolve, “I’ll ax the sharks.” He leaned over the boat’s side, his face close to the surface of the water. “Halloo there!” he shouted, and then bent his head sideways to listen; the children also looked over the side, deeply interested.

“Halloo there! Are y’aslape— Oh, there y’are! Here’s a spalpeen with a dhirty face, an’s wishful to wash it; may I take a bailin’ tin of— Oh, thank your ’arner, thank your ’arner—good day to you, and my respects.”